


26 Shades of Mind and Metal

by Joel7th



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joel7th/pseuds/Joel7th
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary : An alphabetical collection of snippets revolving around the relationship of Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto) and Charles Xavier (Professor X)</p><p>Warnings : spoilers for First Class and Days of Future Past, mpeg, character’s death, violence, shark joke etc. (again, depends on each snippet)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A-E

**A-E**

**\----------**

**A** **– Alone**

He thought he was alone in this world, like the Frankenstein’s monster he had been created to be. Until a voice, a gentle but firm voice mysteriously found its way into the tumultuous mess of rage and murderous intents that was his mind.

“You’re not alone.”

_Not now, at least._

 

 

 **B** **– Blue**

Charles didn’t really save him when they met for the first time, for Erik wasn’t going to drown; he was a much better survivor than that. Yet, as they spent their time together, Erik found himself hopelessly drowning in the blue of Charles’s eyes.

 

 

 **C** **– Chance**

“God has given us a second chance, Charles.”

Erik stood straight and firmly, no longer in his withered, wounded and dying body of the dark future; he was youthful and vigorous again.

So was Charles.

“It wasn’t God, Erik, but us.”

On his legs Charles walked steadily toward Erik. He reached out and gently pulled his friend into his embrace.

“Let’s start things over, my friend.”

 

 

 **D** **– Delivery**

“This arrived early in the morning, the receiver being you but the sender’s left blank.”

Hank laid a starch white box on the table before Charles. “You happen to know the sender?”

“No.”

Charles answered while carefully lifting the box to examine its weight before opening it.

Charles’s blood froze at the sight of a pair of arms placed neatly inside, the visible veins under the skin and dark blotches of dried blood indicating they weren’t the least unauthentic.

And to confirm the identity of their owner, there was a row of numbers tattooed on the left forearm.

 

214782.

 

 

 **E** **– Experiment**

Charles woke up on the floor, the cold, hard uncarpeted floor, to the chill of a winter morning. When he discovered what had kicked him off his dear, warm bed, for the first time in his life, Charles was mad with anger.

That had been one huge bloody mistake.

He shouldn’t have found Hank’s idea interesting and approved to it. He shouldn’t have allowed Hank to carry out the experiment. Most of all, he shouldn’t have let Erik participate in this bloody experiment.

Why Erik, of all mutants in the house?

Because Erik was the only one who could control the magnetic field and that helped the experiment, Hank explained. That and because the metal bender was more than eager to help as a way to make up for his mess in D.C.

The experiment, as far as Hank concerned, was a fair success and Erik came out in one piece and unharmed. It didn’t look like a mistake…

… Not a mistake, a disaster.

It was not until later, when Charles found himself on the floor, absent of Erik’s warmth and cuddle, that he came to this conclusion.

On their bed lied a shark, its massive body occupying the king-sized bed.

What was a bigger surprise for him, Charles mused for a brief moment, a shark that was sleeping peacefully or a shark that was living perfectly healthy out of water.

Nope. It was the fact that this shark was having Erik’s platinum chain around his neck (if sharks have neck) that shocked Charles the most.

Erik had forged an identical pair to mark their reconciliation: one for himself and one for Charles.

Why, of all animal, a shark, Erik?” was Charles’s mental groan.

And the next thing was an earthshaking shout at the name of Henry Phillip “Hank” McCoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, basically, in "Delivery", someone had sawed off Erik's arms (and probably killed him too), wrapped them up and had them sent to Charles (this story line may continue)   
> My dark, twisted mind rises again ORZ  
> First shark joke lol.


	2. F-J

**F-J**

**\----------**

**F** **– Frankenstein’s Monsters**

“214782… is it?”

“… Yes. You are…”

He answers with hesitance, still perplexed at being called by a voice that isn’t his master’s.

Lifting his head up, he briefly examines the other creature. A _he_. Structured almost like himself, only leaner, smaller, more delicate-looking. _Much_ more.

He looks down to the other creature’s left forearm.

“… 287412.”

His _verwandtschaft_ , this creature.

“Please, I prefer _Charles Xavier._ ”

Charles smiles amiably, blue eyes shining like ocean in midsummer day.

Not that he knows anything about the ocean and the summer himself. His creator mentioned those to him at some point.

 “You should have a name too. What do you prefer?”

“He won’t allow.” is his reply.

A name indicates the birth of the ego, something “He” can’t afford in his creations.

“He can’t _not_ allow.”

Charles tilts his head to the left.

… where “He” lies, or more precisely, his carcass…

One smeared, delicate hand removes his restraints and the other caresses his cheekbones, Charles smiles his amiable, harmless smile again.

“So, how about Erik Lehnsherr?”

\---

* verwandtschaft: kin

\---

 

 

 **G** **– Gift**

There was an envelope which hid itself neatly under the pair of arms. The handwriting was stark and it read: “Deepest apology. Other parts will arrive shortly after. Please consider them… a gift.”

\---

*sequel to “Delivery”

\---

 

 

 **H** **– Haunted**

_“Charles.”_

Karl turned his head and his baby blue eyes caught sight of a man standing in the corner where the sun couldn’t touch. He was at least ten years older than the boy and possessed such a pale complexion that he almost looked transparent. Other than that, he was quite pleasing to the eyes.

A handsome _geist_ , the boy mused. But a _geist_ nonetheless.

Seeing ghosts wasn't a strange thing to Karl; it was one of the many gifts given to the thirteen-year-old German boy on his sixth birthday. From then, ghosts kept popping out from god-know-where to communicate with him.

Some asked for his help; some merely wanted a person to pour their hearts out; some were confused and needed to be reminded of their ghost state; whoever came to him, Karl did his best to help them all.

“Traurig, my name's Karl, not Charles, though they indeed came from the same root**. Anything I can help you with, Herr geist***?”

_“You don't recognize me, you don't **know** me, Charles?”_

Karl could feel the metal rail he was leaning on was vibrating. The ghost was angry, Karl could tell but the boy knew neither what he had done to enraged him, or how to soothe him.

“Tut mir sehr leid, Herr geist. But this is the first time I've seen you.”

The ghost’s blue eyes were filled rage.

And pains, too. Somehow Karl could feel them.

He wished he could help ease them, even just a little bit.

The rail was shaking violently. A few bolts came out, scattering around his feet.

An eternity seemed to have passed before all of sudden, rage turned to serenity as the ghost's eyes were tranquilized with unfathomable sorrow.

_“Maybe it's better that way.”_

The ghost turned away, his figure fading as well as his voice.

_“Abschied mein freund….”_

“Hey, wait up...”

Karl called out to the ghost but it was too late; he had already vanished into thin air.

Unfathomable sorrow filled the boy's young heart and a grain of tear rolled down his cheek. Though the ghost had disappeared, Karl knew he would be forever haunted by the sorrow in his eyes.

\---

*they’re speaking in German.

** “Karl” is “Charles” in German.

***”Herr geist” is “Mr. Ghost”.

\---

 

 

 **I** **– Illusion**

Hank thought he had gone mad when he witnessed Erik Lehnsherr sitting across from Charles Xavier, eyes attentive to the chess match between them. Not Magneto with that stupid helmet, silly cape and crazy terrorist attitude, just the snarky big brother Erik they had known.

What was happening here? Both Magneto and Erik had gone for years. Hank knew that. Charles knew that. _Should_ know that.

And yet…

From that moment on, “Erik” was everywhere the mansion, sauntering in the yard, cooking in the kitchen, reading in the library, playing chess in the living room. It wasn’t long before Hank noticed that this ‘Erik’ could only be seen when Charles was around.

 

 

 **J** **– Jealousy**

Charles thought that kid Peter Maximoff was a pain in the ass the first time they met. He didn’t like Peter and he didn’t know where such negative feeling sprouted from, barely knowing the boy and all. Surely Peter was pretty annoying at first but once you got to spend time with him, he turned out to be likable. Still, even when Charles gradually grew fond of Peter, he could not completely shake off his previous spite against the boy. It wasn’t until much, much later that he learned of the reason: Peter Maximoff was the bastard child of Erik Lehnsherr.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In “Illusion”, Charles’s grief over losing Erik and immense power took over him. It hypnotized Charles into believing that Erik was still here with him and the result was the “Erik” Hank saw.


	3. K-O

**K-0**

**\----------**

**K** **– Kafkaesque**

One morning, as Erik Lehnsherr was waking up from pleasure dreams, he discovered that in his bed he had been changed into a huge grey shark. He lay on his back (this position caused his back fins to numb and pain) and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his grey abdomen attached with more fins. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. His fins, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circumference, wiggled helplessly before his eyes.

“What’s happened to me,” he thought. It was no dream. His room, well, their room to be more precise, a proper, furnished room for two full-grown human beings, only somewhat too messy, lay quietly between the four well-known walls. Above the table, on which a collection of books and many metallic objects spread out—Erik was a metal bender—hung the picture which he had set in a pretty gilt frame (he had made the frame himself, a proud work). It was a picture of a young man wearing absolutely nothing but a fedora and a fur boa. He sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the viewer a solid fur muff into which his entire forearm had disappeared.

Erik stared at the picture, wide eyed as if being hypnotized by the deliciously slender curve of the young man’s hip and he seemed entirely forgotten about his bizarre shark state, until a voice called out to him. To his mind, actually.

_Get off me, Erik. You’re crushing me!_

_Charles?_

Erik wondered in his mind. The man-turn-shark finally recalled that last night he had gone to bed with a partner and now said partner was nowhere in sight.

_Where are you, Charles?_

He heard a sigh.

_Roll over! I’m beneath you._

Erik was confused but he did as Charles told him. After many tries and fails, he managed to rolled… off the bed and landed heavily on the ground.

 _This body is a pain in the ass_ , he thought, missing his lithe human body.

_Told you not to turn over in the night. Almost got me crushed._

The same young man in the picture lying on the bed in the same unclothed state, minus the fedora and the fur boa, rubbed his messy brown locks and slightly groaned.

Erik blinked all three eyelids (which is a strange gesture since sharks don’t blink). Did Charles not see anything strange in the room? Thing like Erik Lehnsherr had turned into a shark.

Not to mention a shark out of water.

“What do you want for breakfast? Trouts? Herrings?”

Charles asked nonchalantly with his physical voice while putting on his clothes.

_You don’t see anything strange?_

Great. Even his human voice was gone. Good thing Charles was a telepath.

… Or an animal whisperer.

“Like what?”

_I’m a shark._

Charles stifled a laugh. “So? As far as I remember you’ve always been a shark. Did you dream about being a dolphin last night?”

 _I dreamed of being a man, thank you._  He growled mentally, which earned him a gentle pat on the head from his partner.

“We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? Shark or not, I love you all the same.”

For a moment Erik felt so warm and so loved that he almost thought being a shark was not a huge problem as it might seem.

But Charles, merciless Charles just had to pull him back from his little fantasy.

“Get up you lazy shark,” Charles scolded, not severely, “breakfast won’t wait forever. Neither will Wolverine and Hank.”

A stiff silence. And a mental explosion.

_HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET DOWNSTAIR, CHARLES?_

…

Later, much later, Erik finally calmed down enough to accept his situation. Maybe it wasn’t that bad, he mused, while around him a fur ball called Hank, a Siamese cat called Raven, a pair of (very noisy) chipmunks called Alex and Sean, and a wolverine called… Wolverine, all sat down for dinner.

_At least, Charles was still Charles._

 

 

**L** **– Letters**

The letters arrived in his mailbox on a monthly basis are never unanonymous; still, Charles needs not the name to guess the sender’s identity. Even in the age when telephone and electronic mail have replaced pen and paper, he still receives one letter every month, which he then carefully preserves in a bronze box kept in a place only he knew where.

This is yet another secret shared between the two of them.   

 

 

**M** **– Missing**

The last delivery Charles received from the enigmatic sender contained a torso and a message which read: “Deepest apology. Would love to send you a whole but sadly, there’s one thing missing: his heart. Try your luck by searching around you. It certainly should not be too far.”

\---

Sequel to "Delivery" and "Gift", also the last part.

\---

 

 

**N** **– Nightmare**

“You like it, don’t you?”

That man whispers and flashes a smile.

There is something in that man’s smile, something unnamed, something makes Charles’s blood run cold and his entire body on fire at the same time. Slowly, the man takes his time breaking Charles, and in some twisted, depraved sense, Charles, like he’s said, enjoys it.

The same man wearing the same smile comes every night with various different metal devices to inflict agony and shame upon Charles, only to vanish when the first breath of dawn creeps into his bedroom.

Such is the nightmare which has been tormenting Charles since when he can’t pinpoint. He remembers he was horrified at first and couldn’t concentrate on anything without the man and his smile coming to haunt him.

Never has Charles imagined his fear will eventually turn into obsession.

Perhaps, it’s in his nature to be violated, to be depraved in such manner, as Charles often mocked himself in his own helplessness to resist giving into the dream man’s dominance.

The nightmare would remain a wicked figment of Charles’s psyche for the rest of his life, if he never met Erik Lehnsherr.

It’s a crowded bar where people in this town can come and shed their normal, civil skin to get in touch with their primal self.

Amidst the congealed mixture of thick cigarette smoke and pungent smell of liquor and figures dancing mindlessly to the deafening music, Charles sees Erik, sitting alone in the farthest corner, shutting himself off from the madness of the world around.

This is not the first time Charles has seen Erik; he has met this man countless times before. Every night, after he closes his eyes.

Erik’s eyes spot Charles from across the room and the man flashes him his usual smile, which is a silent beckon to Charles’s subconscious mind.

“You like it, don’t you?”

Charles vaguely hears Erik’s whisper as he lays underneath the man, his nightmare now the reality.

“Positive.”

Despite pains pervading his flesh and bones, Charles manages to reply with a defiant smile.

\---

Inspired by “Watch me fall apart” (Youtube), a Cherik AU with Dark Erik.

\---

 

 

**0** **– Object**

“No, Erik!”

It’s been unwillingly become Charles’s mantra. When Erik tried to sink Shaw’s ship (and himself with it). When he tortured Emma Frost. When he sank the coin deep into Shaw’s skull. When he fired the missiles back to the humans. When he tried to eliminate Raven to secure mutants’ future. When he tried to execute the President in front of all Americans.

Yet, no matter how many times Charles says “No” to Erik outside their bedroom, inside, the only word to ever escape Charles’s lips is “Yes”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As many of you may recognize, the first 2 paragraphs of “Kafkaesque” are parody of Franz Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis”. Here is the original excerpt:
> 
> One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.
> 
> "What's happened to me?" he thought. It wasn't a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table - Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.


	4. P-T

**P** **-T**

**\----------**

**P** **– Paintings**

In many senses, Erik Lehnsherr is a one-in-a-million talent. Fame and wealth beyond imagination would be well in his grasp if only he refused to paint only one single subject in every of his piece.

His subject is an Adonis in the form slender bones, tousled chestnut hair and eyes like the ocean when it welcomes the blazing glory of the sun.

With Erik’s talented skill, the Adonis has come to the world of mortals.

Perhaps, many rich, debauched men and women with money to burn would pay handsomely for Erik’s paintings, provided that Erik tolerated putting them to sale.

Which he never does, even if he’s down to the last penny, even if he starves to death.

Erik toils away hours and hours to perfect his work to the smallest detail; it’s as if he isn’t merely painting a picture but is offering his heart, body and soul to God.

And, in many senses, Erik is a willing slave to his own paintings, to his Adonis.

Rather than a figment of Erik’s imagination, the Adonis in Erik’s painting is real. _Was_ real. Anyone who knows Erik long enough should be aware of this truth.

Years ago, Erik brought him to this backwater town, sharing with him not just his food and bed but also his body and soul. It seemed to many at that moment Erik could go against the whole world just for him.

Then, the young Adonis left their shared cottage for Hades’s embrace and Erik started painting.

Oblivious to everyone’s pity of his lonely and miserable state, day after day, Erik continues to pour his heart and soul into keeping his Adonis _alive_.

Yes, _alive_.

Indeed he died and was buried in Gaia’s bosoms; still, unknown to anyone, the Adonis has never left Erik’s side; day after day he has been sharing Erik’s food and bed as well as his body and soul.

As long as Erik keeps painting.

 

 

**Q** **– Query**

“Are you with baby, Charles?”

Raven arched a perfect eyebrow and nonchalantly asked after seeing her dear brother throw up whatever left in his stomach fourth time in the morning. Her query and possible sudden realization brought to Charles’s normally pale cheeks a shade more fervent than Raven’s hair and a storm of following questions from the other kids.

 

 

**R** **– Ready**

“I’m ready.”

Erik’s short, firm and solemn reply when being pressed by Raven’s query made Charles blush and laugh hard at the same time. The child of Professor X and Magneto, what would it be? What power would it possess? Charles found it hard to tame his wild, raging anticipation that grew larger each day with the blissful weight in his abdomen. Yet, when he saw with his eyes how “ready” Erik was for their coming baby, steel cradle and countless big and small metal objects for toy, all he wanted was to punch the metal bender in the face. 

 

 

**S** **– Sanity**

Being held in jail in ten years for a crime you hadn’t committed was the surest, simplest way to drive a man crazy, even if that man was an extraordinary individual such as Erik Lehnsherr. Erik hadn’t gone insane, not yet and what had been doing a wondrous job of keeping his sanity intact was something as small and fragile as the smile of Charles Xavier.

 

 

**T** **– Teeth**

Charles sometimes wondered if Erik’s teeth was part of his mutation: unusually sharp and strong and sure to give people with galeophobia one hell of a nightmare. And Charles was neither galeophobic nor afraid of getting bitten by the shark.


	5. U-Z

**U-Z**

**\----------**

**U** **– Utopia**

_Utopia_ \- A world where mutants and humans coexist peacefully.

“Such thing never exists, Charles. Peace was, is and never will be an option.”

His voice, soft and gentle like a lover’s breath as he peeled off his leather gloves, fingers ghosting over the smooth surface, feeling the cold beneath bare skin.

Amidst the Inferno, the verdant green hill where Erik was standing was an untouchable utopia. From here he looked down, steel blue eyes boring coldly into a group of humans being ushered to his feet.

The last Homo sapiens on planet Earth.

“Have mercy, please.”

“We were just following orders… please. We didn’t want to…”

“Please… “

Throughout the pleas and cries, Erik maintained a deadpan expression. Yet, hidden under the sleeves of his suit, his fingers were gripping the cold stone with such force that his skin cracked and blood seeped out.

He burned the world to find them and now they were begging him to have mercy?

The irony.

Still…

If Charles were here, would he have mercy?

Hah!

It didn’t matter. Charles wasn’t here. Erik was. And Erik knew no mercy.

With a wave of his hand, he gave the command to Pyro standing silently beside.     

Flesh and bones turned to coal, and coal turned to ash.

A scarce wind swept over the burnt ground, carrying the ash to land on an old tomb stone on which the name once sharply carved had faded with time.

“Ruhe in frieden, mein freund.”

“… Charles Francis Xavier.”

_May you find Heaven above, because down here, it’s only Hell._

 

 

**V** **– Vengeance** _  
_

Charles Xavier wasn’t exactly the vengeful type but he wouldn’t shy from exacting his vengeance on his old friend, Erik Lehnsherr. As a result, Angel, Azazel, Emma and Janos were unable to look at their leader and not imagine the almighty Magneto with fiery red wig, fishnet stockings and go-go boots.

By the way, Raven was cool with the whole nightmarish idea of Magneto in drag; she even found it a sure turn-on!

One day, feigning unaware of the other mutants’ yelling “No” (mouthing, actually) at her, Raven mentioned it to Erik.

All hell broke loose.

 

 

**W** **– Wigs**

“Uhm, Erik…”

One random and lazy afternoon, after they’d just finished their third chess match, Charles spoke up, his tone slightly trembling and absent of his usual confidence.

“What is it Charles?”

“That man, Logan, said… in the future I’ll be bald, like… without a single hair.”

Charles finished, warily monitoring Erik’s reactions. The mental bender just sat in his seat, frozen in time, staring at Charles, steel blue eyes unblinking.

Charles gulped, feeling particularly uneasy with the way Erik stared at him. Silence seemed to stretch out for eternity as neither of the men said a word before Erik finally opened his mouth.

“The future is not set, Charles…”

Reaching out to gently caress Charles’s wavy locks, Erik said in a firm, determined tone. “Even if it is, we will always have wigs.”

 

 

**X**

“Are you ready?”

“More than ever.”

Charles replies with trust and confidence before closing his eyes, allowing the anesthetic to claim him.

Hank nods his head and proceeds the first step of the long operation whose sole purpose is to restore the use of Charles’s legs without suppressing his powers.

This operation is a long, arduous development of Hank’s previous serum. It hasn’t been until lately that Hank discovers the reason why his previous serum, despite being able to restore Charles’s walking ability, was a failure. The formula lacks one essential element: the cerebrospinal fluid containing the X gene which is extracted from a mutant’s brain.

And, getting the necessary amount for the serum only means one thing: killing the mutant.

Charles vehemently opposed it at first; he couldn’t tolerate the idea of taking a person’s life, one of his own kind to boost, in order to fix his broken body. Being unable to walk is fine; being unable to use his powers is fine; Charles can endure them all. However, he can never bear the guilt of killing in order to live.

It took Hank endless time and effort to talk Charles into accepting his treatment. Charles was still skeptical when Hank said it was donated by a mutant who knew his death penalty was certain. In the end, Hank shut him up by telling Charles it was that mutant’s final will and if Charles wasted it, his soul could never rest in peace.

The operation was a success. As Hank watches Charles carefully taking his steps like a toddler, once again he swallows the gnawing guilt of lying to his best friend.

It was Erik Lehnsherr’s death wish for the truth to be forever concealed, after all.

Yet, it’s only a matter of time before Charles regains his powers.

\---

In this snippet, Erik was sentenced to death for murdering President Kennedy instead of being imprisoned for life. The government deemed that he was too dangerous to keep alive.

This may or may not be a prequel to “I – Illusion”.

\---

 

 

**Y** **– Young (and beautiful)**

Erik was young once, and beautiful too, though he always crosses out the latter with a ferocity of a shark sensing blood.

Time has never been merciful.

Now, Erik is old and withered, his once auburn hair all grey, his skin wrinkled and sagged, and he deserves the word “beautiful” no longer.

On the other hand, Charles was, is and will always stay young and beautiful.

In Erik’s mind.

 

 

**Z** **– Zero**

This a Fate/Stay Night parody and it will make absolutely no sense if you know nothing about Fate/Stay Night or Fate/Zero.

\---

“You’re supposed to be my Master?”

Behind the metal helmet, steel blue eyes bored into Charles’s face as the tall man in the glowing circle looked down on the boy sitting ungracefully on the ground. Though it was windless in the storage, the stranger’s cape was fluttering widely, as if speaking for its master’s impatience for a confirmation from Charles, who was so overwhelmed by the stranger’s presence that his lips were frozen in a straight, albeit trembling line.

Too many things had happened in one short night and Charles really couldn’t be blamed for acting like a genuine half-wit. First, he accidentally witnessed the mortal combat between two bizarrely costumed men. One minute they were trying to kill each other and the next, the more vicious of the duo turned away in the heat of battle to attack Charles. It was a stab through the heart and Charles needed not to be a medical student to tell death was certain. Yet, when he came about, he was perfectly alive. A weird dream, perhaps? Unfortunately, it was no dream; the messy reddish stain on Charles’s cardigan was one proof, another being his assailant’s return to ensure Charles “stay” dead not long after.

It had happened too fast. Charles was running for dear life when this costumed stranger seemingly materialized out of thin air. With a wave of his gloved hand, the stranger easily repelled Charles’s assailant’s attack, sending the spearman out to the yard.

“You’re not a half-wit, aren’t you?”

Steel blue eyes squinted dangerously and it took all Charles’s courage not to squirm under such intense gaze.

“I…I’m no…”

A sharp pain bit the back of his hand and when all eyes looked down, they both saw a three-pieced glowing tattoo.

The stranger’s gaze softened with a hint of smugness.

“That answers me. But, mark my words…”

He was speaking with German accent, Charles noticed, which oddly added more authority to what he was about to say.

“I may fight _with_ you but I don’t take any forms of mastership you attempt on me.”

“Of course you don’t.” Charles blurted out, too confused to grasp the meaning behind his savior’s “fight” and “mastership”.

He spared no second for Charles and floated gracefully to the yard, to Charles’s assailant.

Charles’s baby blue eyes widened at the sight of every single metal objects in the vicinity spring from their place and fly toward the stranger. As they were flying, they melted and formed pointed projectiles to rain down the spearman.

Charles could only hold his breath and stared silently at the unusual display of power.

“The hell with this witchcraft? Are you Caster?”

The spearman roared, spinning his blood-red spear to deflect the projectiles. Despite his dexterity of his spear, some were still able to penetrate his defense to wound him.

Blood made the spearman’s red eyes glow and his sharp canine visible, his handsome features marred with bestial rage.

“Gáe…”

Charles saw a smirk creep up his savior’s lips before with a wave of his hand, he turned the spearman’s beloved weapon to its master’s heart.

The spearman’s body crumpled in a haze, leaving not a trace left on where he had been standing and fighting. Metal projectiles lying uselessly on the battered ground were the only proof that there had been a fight between supernatural beings.

Charles’s savior lifted his metal helmet, his short, auburn hair gently played by the wind. Soft moonlight outlined his features as he turned around and meet Charles in the eyes. Upon seeing his savior’s face for the first time, the boy’s breath got stuck in his throat.

“In this era, I go by the name Archer. But I prefer, Magneto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fate/Stay Night’s fateful encounter parodied by Charles Xavier as Emiya Shirou and Erik Lehnsherr/ Magneto/ Archer as Saber.
> 
> Archer class probably suits Erik the best due to this class’s Independence Skill (the ability to act independently without the Master). Oh, thanks to the X-Men franchise, Servant Erik Lehnsherr gets a huge stat boost.
> 
> Erik’s Noble Phantasm is his own mutation and he can manipulate most other Servants’ weapons, except weapons made from other-worldly material like Gil’s Ea, Arturia’s Excalibur or Lancelot’s Aarondight. I imagine that Erik can pull something similar to Gil’s Gate of Babylon or Emiya’s Unlimited Blades Work if he has enough metal.


End file.
